


tell me why my gods look like you

by olleetherogue



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, Praise, Teasing, Trans Ronan Lynch, adam parrish is a smooth motherfucker, ronan has a thing for adams hands and adam KNOWS it, ronan lynch is being undone by his bf, this is an epitome of shivering w antici...........pation cause it takes them 3k words to even kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 05:30:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20540891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olleetherogue/pseuds/olleetherogue
Summary: “I just had quite a brilliant idea, babe,” Adam said, smiling, and biting the lower lip.“Oh yeah?”“I want to boss you around for a bit tonight. 'S'that okay with you?"- OR -ronan comes home, cue: adam sexy dancing, they wanna jump each other's bones but are very slow n teasy w that, and talk a lot





	tell me why my gods look like you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [all of us touch starved gays](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=all+of+us+touch+starved+gays).

> wassup gays. this is super soft, as far as sex goes, and tbh this was not even supposed to go there but here we are. are you ever just ,, touch starved
> 
> title from king princess' 1950
> 
> no beta, we die like losers on this hill
> 
> [ronan is trans and the words that could potentially come up with describing sex are just vague af] [also no genitalia name has been mentioned in the whole fic can u imagine]

Adam was in a good mood today. In fact, it was one of those rare days when he felt good enough to not worry for once, not about grades, or scholarships, or the future; good enough to let himself dance, like no one was watching. Which was quite easy to imagine, as Adam was, indeed, alone at the Barns. Apart from the cows, that is.

Taking Ronan's forgotten (or rather, purposefully left alone) phone from the couch in the living room and taking his headphones, Adam typed in a song that was playing in his mind all day, and gradually let himself go.

Four songs in, was how Ronan Lynch found his boyfriend, his hips swaying absent-mindedly and with unexpected confidence, the greeting of “Hey, shithead” spoken out only halfway.

Adam turned. Ronan put the keys on the small table – dropped them, even. An obscene grin broke on Adam's face, a playful half-lidded look, and, if anything, the hips swayed only deeper and sower, hands going for the pelvis area, and then – for the knees, which he was now grabbing from his half-crouched position. He rose. Looking away from Ronan, he slapped his thighs twice, clearly to a rhythm of the song, his hands turning around the second time, and hips moving sharply from one side to the other with each hit.

On the other side of the couch, Ronan audibly swallowed and maybe, just a little, died inside. He was not sure what was doing it for him more – the unspeakable hip sways, sinful moves of the shoulders, a rare sight to behold, and so clearly outlined in Ronan's black tank top right now -, or his fingers dragging up shorts and showing his thighs off even more. Probably all three.

He took a step closer, and then another one, and then stopped, not sure if he dared to come too close and, god forbid, come in the way of the dance.

Raising his t-shirt a little with one hand, tracing down his now exposed stomach with the other, and still dancing to god knows what song was playing in his headphones, Adam made a step closer; Ronan blinked, and when he opened his eyes four milliseconds later, Adam was biting the tip of his finger, a grin dancing around it now, undoubtedly aware of the effect it had on Ronan, Adam's apple dropping visibly. He was an artist, and his hands were brushes, drawing shapes and patterns with his body known only to him, but open to the viewer, inviting interpretation.

Stepping closer around the couch, feet moving almost lazily, Adam was raising his hands, drawing circles around and above his head, going down the back of his neck and chest. Ronan did not get a memo that he was capable of any of this.

Dragging his hand up, closing his eyes, dragging the eyebrows slightly up, rushing slowly through the hair. After several second-long eternities, he finally made his way to Ronan, and said, voice low but not exactly quiet: “Hey there”.

Ronan had nothing to do, say – not that Adam would hear anyway-, or otherwise contribute to that, except for staying there, struck, amazed, suddenly thirsty, and gape. That was definitely not a sight he was used to, and he was going to take as much in as he could. With Adam coming closer, Ronan could just barely hear the music coming from the headphones. As if on cue, Adam took the headphones out of his ears, one by one, and hooked them on the top of the tank top he was wearing. He moved with a speed of a person who had at least a hundred years ahead of them, and like the night was endless; still young – a newborn.

“You look great,” Ronan commented, voice heavy with something; he wasn't lying.

Adam's response was a smile, a tilt of the head, and hungry eyes looking from below his lids, as his hands continued tracing down his own chest, and at some unnoticed moment migrating to Ronan's, and then going down, and down, his fingers searching. Ronan could only guess he was searching for belt loops on his jeans, given the circles and triangles drawn at his hipbones and nowhere else, and the fails at hooping gestures. For a moment, and then two, Adam found nothing, not stopping the investigation for a second. Instead, his two fingers caught the band of the jeans, and stayed there for no more than three heartbeats.

“I just had quite a brilliant idea, babe,” Adam said, smiling, and biting the lower lip.

“Oh yeah?”

“I want to boss you around for a bit tonight. 'S'that okay with you?" leaning closer, Adam asked the second question almost quietly, still smiling that smile, not dropping the act, but becoming noticeably more serious to an attentive ear. And he had all of Ronan's attention.

Ronan nodded, and tried to give him a smirk, not entirely sure if it was reaching the desired effect. He was going for will see who is bossing who around or challenge accepted, Parrish. He had an impression it was more of please take me apart with your hands instead.

“Good,” and Adam's gaze went up and down, down and up Ronan's body, admiration, and want, and sly plans clear as the night on his face. “Very, very good. C'mere.”

Adam then pulled him by the band of his jeans in the direction of the couch, leading his way backwards. Ronan was not entirely sure he could walk. If he was completely honest, tonight was turning out to be one huge surprise, and finding himself so easily obeying Adam's guidance was one of them. Adam pressed on his shoulder, turning him around, and pushed with gentle force. Ronan fell into the couch. The landing was not the softest – although who was going to think about that, now that Adam's hand was pushing on Ronan's right shoulder for support, still persistent, and his body was moving so that he could place his left knee between Ronan's legs. Which he attempted to press together, to give Adam a challenge and to see how he would go about that. Also because he was a piece of shit like that.

Adam looked down. His other hand dropped to Ronan's knee, and traced up and down his left thigh, pressing firmly as he was closing the crotch area, and stopping the journey at that point. Hand there, thumb circling divine figures on the inner side of his leg, his lips nearly brushing Ronan's right ear, he asked in a sinful voice:

“Common. Open up for me, will you?”

How Adam could say it without combusting, or at least blushing, was beyond Ronan's comprehension. He was merely receiving, and yet, he was very close to both. And just, close in general.

“Just like that,” Adam's hand continued its tour up and down Ronan's thigh, his tone serious and satisfied.

Mouth slightly ajar, breathing out heavily – Ronan really had to drink, being so turned on by his boyfriend was draining a lot of liquid from his body, – he moved one of his legs to the side. Two things happened at once then; Adam's fingers that were still clawed into the shoulder, dug deeper through Ronan's T-shirt, causing a sweet ping of pain; Adam's leg moved, his knee now caught between Ronan's legs, and flushed against his crotch, causing a set of entirely different sensations. Something twisted and turned in Ronan's lower stomach, and he threw his head back.

Leaning down to him, a tall statue of golden beauty above him, Adam ran his hand down the side of Ronan's face – with the softest of gestures, dipping into the temples, bumping into the cheekbone, and letting it fall to the chin, smoothly, slowly. Adam never understood people describing Ronan using the words “sharp” this and “all edges” that; to him, there were few things softer than his whole being, especially in moments like that.

“God,” came out of Ronan's mouth, a reaction to the things transpiring. He rolled his head back, again, his hands helplessly digging into the sides of his legs, unsure if he can touch, and not daring enough to try.

“Using the Lord's name in vain,” he tsk-ed sarcastically, and leaned down to nuzzle his nose into the side of where Ronan's jaw met his neck, lips almost brushing against his neck. Ronan leaned into the almost-touch, pushing his head slightly back, and his neck slightly forward. When Adam pulled back, Ronan swore, “For fuck's sake, please. Just fucking –“

“Shh,” Adam dragged his finger down Ronan's lips, slowly, making his lips stretch down and then spring up; and then again, and twice more. “Don't be so profane, babe; such a beautiful mouth, and such filthy words.”

His fingers kept on dragging his lips apart, as if he never saw them before, never touched, and could not resist any more. Adam's thumb smoothed over Ronan's upper lip, drew the line to the corners of the mouth, drew another line on the lower lip, and for approximately three seconds put his finger in, outracing his front teeth. When Ronan whined, Adam smiled, proud with himself, and smug, and not bothering at all to hide it, and withdrew his hand.

“Speaking of filthy – you, - that, – ” Ronan tried.

“Ronan. Since you can't keep that tongue of your in control, I will have to do something about it. How about,” Adam turned his hand, and dragged his knuckles and the back of his hand to Ronan's face, caressing and leaving them almost-kissed. He knew Ronan had a thing for his hands, and he was definitely using that knowledge to his advantage. “- you are only allowed to say my name, from now on” he finished. The hands, they were making Ronan's stomach weak, it was turning and churning, and he opened his mouth trying to suck one of them. He succeeded, but only for the briefest of moments.

Adam retracted his hand back, leaning away.

“No, Lynch. You are only allowed to watch.”

He hovered there, unmoved and unmoving, until Ronan nodded curtly, silent. Adam did not return his hand immediately then; in fact, he took his time with taking out the phone and untangling the headphones, snaking them around the phone then, painfully slow, before throwing it on the couch next to them. Ronan tried to grind against Adam's leg, still pressed against him and his legs, to which Adam tsk-ed again. “Watch only.”

Ronan groaned, enjoying it immensely, but also having some ideas on how the current situation could be improved. Adam had some ideas, too, it seemed.

Putting the weight on the knee between Ronan's legs, Adam put his other leg so that he was now straddling Ronan's right leg. A sigh broke out of Ronan's lips, and his hips went up, searching for friction, almost involuntarily, daring.

Adam's right hand was again on Ronan's shoulder, while the other one went for his boyfriend's waist, and then hip, squeezing and keeping him down.

“Put your hands around me,” he said to his ear. After a second of consideration, he added, “but no roaming.”

Ronan did. He would be a fool not to. He also did not roam, but just pressed his fingers deeper, experimenting; Adam seemed to have allowed that. Maybe it was him being busy with tracing Ronan's neck and shoulders now, dragging his nails into his skin, hotly, lovingly.

Adam was very busy, all with taking Ronan's face in his both hands, first gently and touching ever so lightly with the tips of his fingers, and then cupping them with his palms, crushing gently and pushing the skin up, fingers behind his ears now, tugging, drawing circles and mindless shapes, changing rhythm on the shortly buzzed hair right behind his ears. All Ronan could do was shiver, and wait, and be good.

Seven or so circles after, Adam traced the fingers back, his thumb stopping by Ronan's half-open mouth, dragging the lip down, a yearningly familiar touch now. Adam leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, and Ronan wished for a kiss, closing his eyes. His hips went up against Adam's leg again.

“No moving either, babe.”

Ronan sighed, pained.

Adam's index finger was carefully outlining the folds of the t-shirt's collar that Ronan was wearing, a whisper of touch and a tease of Ronan's nerves. Ronan was being unravelled, petal by petal, feather by feather, touch by touch. When the index finger made its way to the centre of Ronan's collar, Adam slowly pushed his hand up, raising Ronan's chin with the knuckle of the finger – so that now he was looking down at Adam, his eyes half-closed, and pupils wide with lust. When Adam laughed gently, his breath tickled Ronan's neck, and Ronan closed his eyes, losing himself in it, anticipating, breathing heavily as he was forgetting to do it. His throat was closed from being so fucking dry.

Ronan was dying, slowly, he thought, and he loved every second of it.

“You're very pretty like that, you know that?” Adam's voice brought him back, he opened his eyes to see Adam falling onto his chest, flushing now, grinding himself against Ronan's leg painfully slow, and igniting something within him, dropping drops of petrol into his burning curling stomach and below; his fingers on Ronan's neck, and jaw, whispering: “I love seeing you fall apart under my touch.”

“Adam.” Ronan's voice was heavy, breathless, dry. I love it more, it sounded like. 

Adam guided Ronan's hands on his thighs, and busied himself with caressing Ronan's sides. His hands were going up and down, at first fingernails brushing, sensation light and tickling, turning Ronan even more on, teasing; then it turned into light scratching, and then the whole palm kneading into him, like an expert baker kneading the needy dough. His movements were slow, languid, as if he was going into a cool body of water on a warm day, with a goal to not disturb any fish inside, and to enter most subtly, with the least of waves. Raising his shirt, but not directly touching his skin, he said, “I want to see you.”

Normally Ronan would reply with, oh do you now, or keep it in your pants, Parrish, or I want to see you, but now? Now he would not dare.

“Adam,” he said gladly, meaning, of course, saying, thank you, and please, all at once.

The shirt went off right away; while Adam seemed to be in no rush whatsoever, Ronan had needs, dammit, and one of them including getting as much of Adam as was humanly possible right now.

Adam looked at his chest, clad in a black binder and beautiful, and dragged a tongue over his teeth. Ronan was still dying, still slowly, and that look was killing and reviving him, both at once. Again, he arched his back, and slowly pushed his hips up, trying to thrust against Adam's leg.

“We'll get there. Be patient.” He did not stop him any further; he didn't need to.

“Adam,” was his way of saying, why can't we get there now, and was I not patient before?, and you are undoing me and look hot doing it.

Adam flushed their stomachs together, his breath tickling the side of Ronan's neck and shoulder, as his hands continued exploring, and touching, and teasing.

“Kiss me?” Ronan knew he was breaking the rule, but he could not stay like this, unkissed, on edge, and desperate, a second longer.

Adam gave him an appraising look which then turned into a praising one; Ronan was red, eyes closing only to open again, breathing loudly through his mouth.

“Oh, since you ask so nicely.”

He said it, as if agreeing, as if implying that he would do that now. Maybe that was what people called 'wishful thinking', Ronan thought absently. Because Adam didn’t kiss Ronan right away. Neither did Ronan move or make any attempt to close the distance between their lips. They stayed like that, close to each other, hot, slowly grinding against one another, and squeezing on the parts of the bodies they hands could reach, until. Until with a definitive thrust, Adam leaned down, his breath grazing against Ronan's collarbone, and then he kissed him there, briefly. He kissed him with hot lips, and then again, and then he opened his mouth and kissed his collarbone, now differently; and maybe, Ronan moaned, when Adam's teeth dragged down the bone and the sensitive spot.

Adam shifted, and kissed him lower, just above his binder; that kiss was gentle, and then it was not – it was open-mouthed, tongue flicking, sucking, making obscene sounds. Ronan loved it.

"Do you wanna take that off?" Adam asked, his fingertips tapping on the thick staps of his binder, his mouth barely above his skin.

"No," was Ronan's short reply.

"Okay."

Adam moved on, like a devoted man on a holy mission to salvage every bit of skin Ronan had, and the only means of salvation were his tongue, his lips, his mouth, his shivering breath. He pressed a soft touch of the lips under the hem of the binder, and then his teeth grazed over his ribcage; Ronan arched his back, gripped hard on Adam's hips which he was holding like his life depended on it, and moaned loudly again.

“You like that?” Adam murmured, as if he needed an answer, and continued on kissing, taking another vocal sigh as yes, I do, a soft moan saying I love it. His mouth found its way to Ronan's middle, and he left delicate kisses on his stomach rolls, before abruptly straightening up on his knees, pushing his leg deeper into Ronan in the process, as he towered above Ronan and looked down at him.

“Do you know what will happen now?”

Ronan gulped; if he wasn't paying attention before (and he was), now it reached its peak. He was looking up at Adam, who was drawing slow circles with his hips, his hands circled around Ronan's neck. He shook his head; he wasn't lying, but he trusted it to be magnificent, and so he smiled a little.

Adam leaned in closer, and whispered in his ear, breath hot and heavy and sending shivers down his sides, and arms, “You will touch me now. I want you will start with my thighs, and then go for my back,” saying this, Adam took his hands, guided him to his shorts, and shoved his hands under them, pushing towards him. Ronan made a sound that was best described as an drowning moan, and touch his thighs he did. “You will pull me closer until there is no more distance between us. Your hands will go up to my back, I want you to grind against me.” Even though he would like to think that he was not embarrassingly eager to please, and to obey, Ronan was not sure he had ever been as quick to act (and he was a rash boy, to say the least). He tugged Adam closer, and ground up and down his leg, pressed firmly still. His hands went up against Adam's back, getting somewhat stuck with the sweat, but persisting nevertheless. “Just. Like. That.” Adam punctuated every word with a kiss, on a cheekbone, and then the angle of the jaw, and then the side of the neck.

He rose a little again, and to the other ear, he whispered, “You are so good, Ronan. Fuck,” hearing Adam swear in a moment like that was a sight to behold. “Don't stop”. As if it was even on his mind.

At some point between hushed, somewhat commanding whispers and kisses and obeying, Adam took off his shirt. Now, when their skin touched, it was a whole other experience – heating, and burning, and sticky with sweat that drove all the moisture out and made them both so thirsty.

“Kiss my chest.” A command easily obeyed. Ronan leaned down, trying to replicate the teasing breath before touching with his lips, attempting to repay, to make him shiver, too. When he did, Adam reached for the back of Ronan's head with his hand, and held him there. Ronan could suck and bite, too, and so he went for it, going through Adam's chest like a diligent gardener tending to his most cherished plants.

Adam let out a moan, holding Ronan's head gently between his hands. “Is that okay? Are you good?” he asked Ronan, just to make sure.

Ronan nodded. Then, “I thought you were supposed to tell me if I'm good.”

That stole a smile out of Adam's lips, and he said, "Oh, I think you're excellent." He leaned in closer, closing his eyes slightly, and brushing their cheeks together, so that he could tell him in his ear, "So fucking good, you are." Ronan sighed out a moan. Adam moved his head back a little, looking into Ronan's eyes as he started shifting his leg, rubbing it against Ronan's crotch. Ronan moaned again, and grabbed harder on his sides, his back, going up to his shoulder blades under the tank top, and trying to bring them closer again.

Adam leaned to kiss, it seemed, and Ronan first thought was, finally, his second – please, and Adam's face was still hovering above his, teasing, centimetres away, leading on, and leading up, until reaching out of his reach again, still grinding onto each other, but more teasingly now, withdrawing now and then, and then coming back. Ronan let out an impatient, disappointed sigh.

“Adam,” he said, meaning, how much longer do I have to be patient for?, and I am not sure if I have it in me, honestly. To stress the latter even more, he said, “Adam,” again, pleadingly, with more urge, opening his mouth, in case it was not very clear.

That seemed to do it.

“Ronan.” He touched his lower lip with his thumb again, opening his mouth, and then he leaned in.

The kiss was a whisper between two boys, familiar with each other. With his thumb still on Ronan's chin, Adam pressed on, opening the mouth further, slipping a hot tongue in, and kissing, kissing like that was the only thing that mattered.

The whispers started turning into sentences, more confident with each press of the lips, each shared breath and sigh; then, they conversed in semi-hushed soft tones, speaking louder and louder, until it reached a usual speaking volume. Not too long after that, they were shouting.

"Tell me what you want."

Ronan did not consider that the question was exactly on the table, and all he can think of is saying: "You."

"You have to be more specific than that, babe."

Ronan made an attempt to think, what was an appropriate thing to ask, and what he wanted most now. He was quite enjoying the making out, now that they reached it (and damn it, but it was a hard-earned victory) and he couldn't think of a thing he wouldn't want Adam to do to him. He still had not reached a conclusion, when Adam interrupted about four different scenarios which included lots of obscene kissing, more grinding and touching, and possibly someone's head between somebody's legs.

“I want to go down on you,” maybe Adam was a mind reader, or maybe he just knew Ronan loved it; either way, it made him swallow hard. “How about that? Mm?” he asked, pressing his lips to Ronan's mouth again, and then to his neck, giving him an opportunity to reply.

“S-sure,” it felt like his voice was breaking. Although what else could anyone expect, when he was being taken apart like that. "That's. Sure."

"Off your pants go, then," Adam said, smiling into his neck, kissing, and kissing.

Ronan's hands went to unbutton his pants, somewhat shaky and somewhat trembling. And while his one hand was busy with undoing the buttons, the other went up to Adam's leg, his thumb grazing against his crotch; Adam closed his eyes and sighed audibly, leaning in: Ronan cupped it with his hand, experimenting, making the smallest of movements. "Fuck." When Adam opened his eyes, Ronan was already looking.

"I need you to get off me to take off my pants," he smiled, and stopped his hand, now teasing him.

"Ah. Sure," Adam said in a haze, but unpeeled himself off Ronan after several heartbeats. His hand went for his shorts, and he was touching himself, while Ronan was taking off his pants, seemingly dragging his underwear with it as well.

Adam all but dropped to his knees to the couch, and his hands snaked around Ronan's thighs. Even that was sexy, Ronan thought, seeing a boy he adored looking up at him, from where he was now kissing his thigh, just above the knee, and working his way up. Adam repositioned his arms, putting them under Ronan's legs, and putting his hands on his hips, moving him closer. Ronan obliged, scooting to the edge of the couch, ready to get lost, throwing his head on the back of the couch and anticipating. Seeing how the evening has progressed, it might take a while.

Adam was squeezing his hips, which quickly turned into more of butt-grabbing, as their current position best allowed; he leaned to kiss the inner thigh, his mouth closed at first, slowly opening, grazing his teeth against his flesh, more so with each kiss going upwards, until his tongue was all out there, giving Ronan's thighs the love they deserved. When instead of getting to the point, getting his mouth to where Ronan needed it most right now, Adam moved to his other thigh, Ronan's moan was different, somewhat disappointed.

"Adam," he said accusingly, remembering the rule he had broken so many times already and not entirely sure if it still stood true.

"We can't leave this one deprived of some smooches, can we?" Ronan could not handle looking at Adam, who was looking back, his hair sort of in the way, his mouth open on his thighs; it was almost too much.

Ronan did not particularly know what to do with his hands now; usually, he would put it in Adam's hair, leading him and pressing him, but tonight it seemed not quite right to do that. So he settled on locking his hands with Adam's wrists, who turned one of his hands and interlaced their fingers, keeping the other one exploring and touching the holy hip-butt-thigh trio.

When Adam's open kisses reached exactly the middle of him, thighs kissed and bitten, Ronan stopped trying to control his sighs and moans. Not that it was possible at that point anyway. The grip on Adam's wrist got stronger, Ronan's hand interlaced with his pressed harder.

"Fuck. Adam," he said between panting, the sweet turning in his lower stomach untwisting, burning higher and warmer, and much more pleasant.

Adam moaned into him, a sort of "mhm" vibration, an encouragement to keep going, that completely threw Ronan off and above, making him curse and moan breathlessly. Hearing the reaction, Adam did it again, this time more of "mm?" question, teasing and smug, his tongue continuing to do wonders, his lips smiling against him. Ronan held on, stronger and tighter, and continued panting. Adam, being Adam, withdrew his mouth with an obscene sound, looking up at him, smiling. Ronan was very red, extremely thirsty, and equally frustrated and pleased. Adam went back to kissing his thighs.

"You're so good, Ro," Adam said quietly; Ronan heard him. His hips rose towards Adam's mouth. Adam seemed to now have noticed it.

"I, uh, do my best for you." It really would have sounded as cool as it did in his head, had he not been completely on edge and desperate.

"Do you want a finger in?" Adam asked, conversationally, now kissing the other thigh.

"Uh, no," he replied, remembering to ease the grip on both of Adam's hands. "No penetration, please."

"Of course, babe" he kissed his inner thigh again "Was just curious." And with one sudden motion, he put his mouth off the thighs and back to the centre, this time the strokes of the tongue much slower but with more pressure. When Adam's tongue brushed a particularly gentle spot, Ronan's hands instinctively went to his head, putting distance between them, his legs going up a little and pressing Adam's head in between.

"Yellow. Too sensitive."

Adam took his hand off his head, and kissed it, gently at first, and then next second Ronan's two fingers were in his mouth, and he didn't quite know which part of his body did he want Adam to suck like that. Taking the fingers out of his mouth, Adam said, "Okay. I will be more careful. Yeah?"

"Fuck yeah." Ronan smiled, dropping his head back again, and leaving his hands in Adam's hair, tugging through curls, putting the loose fringe out of the way, cause he was a sweet boyfriend like that.

Adam was, indeed, more careful. Ronan was very close.

"Adam," was his way of letting him know that, his hips finding a rhythm to match Adam's movements, thrusting up and down, completely lost in harsh pants. As Ronan expected and so, so hoped, Adam moaned again, long, and hot, his hands grabbing at him, and then again, even longer and louder, and that was it for Ronan. Using Adam's head as the only anchor in the room, Ronan's hands pushed him closer, his thighs pressed around him, his back arching inwards, around Adam; the final thrusts of his hips got more hectic and tired now. He felt like flying.

"You're so hot," Adam said, the words rushing out of his wonderful mouth, staying there, kissing him softly, his thighs, his stomach, his hands. Ronan appreciated it – a pause, a breather. They stayed like that for what felt like a minute.

Ronan raised his head from the back of the couch, trying his best to smirk. "You're not too bad yourself, Parrish." Adam rose his body to kiss him, a smile forming immediately.

"Oh really?" he asked, between kisses and smiling like love-struck fools. "Wanna do something about it?" He said to his mouth, playfully raising his eyebrows like a complete dork.

"Mmm," Ronan pretend-pondered, his hands already roaming around, grabbing at his ass and pulling him closer. Adam started grinding slowly, now taking his lead. "I don't know. I guess since you have asked so nicely," he said in his good ear, kissing his neck, and then sucking under the ear; Adam shivered.

"H-how kind of you," now the power dynamics were quickly changing, and both of them seemed very much on board with it.

"What do you want me to do?" Ronan's fingertips were drawing lines on Adam's back, dragging the tank top up, his other hand on his butt, pulling him in.

"If you keep letting me grind on you, maybe you won't have to do anything, ah-" Ronan smiled, a devious little thing, and pushed Adam off himself with his hand.

"What's the fun in that?" Both of Ronan's hands snaked around Adam's waist, and he turned them around, now sitting on top of him. After a minute of consideration, he rotated them a bit, and pushed Adam to the couch, sending him into a horizontal position. He, however, remained sitting on top of him, straddling his thighs, his hands roaming at Adam's torso, trying to take off the tank top. Adam obliged, but from his half-sitting position, he tried to take a hold of Ronan and bring them closer. Ronan ts-ked, proud of himself to have found so many ways to mirror his boyfriend.

"Ah! No touching," Ronan said, because he could now.

"Ronan!" Adam protested, but lay back down and put his hands up, hooking them at the side of the couch, and pulled his hips up.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," he said, a little seriously.

He shifted further up Adam's body, and leaned down, kissing him hotly. His hand was pressed firmly against his lower abdomen, thumb curling, and then smoothing the skin. When their lips parted, he asked, "Can I touch you?". When Adam nodded yes, he kissed his brow, and then his eyes, and then his lips. His finger hooked around the shorts Adam was wearing, and pulled down.

Then, he touched him; he didn't know if he had it in him to tease, when they have been so tired and drenched in sweat, and hot. His touches were light, gentle, at the first two strokes, and then he pressed tighter, and Adam moaned, and he took it as a sign, and kept his hold like that, changing his rhythm to see what got the most sounds of Adam's lips.

"Ronan, you're- so good," Adam was panting, Ronan was kissing his neck, and collarbones, and then he looked at him, and Adam was already looking, his eyes almost closed, and face frowning, and then he came.

Ronan kissed him through it, and at some points he found his face being caressed by Adam's hands, and he smiled, and then laughed, and continued kissing him like that.

"You're so pretty, Adam." He kissed his eyebrow again.

"You're, not so bad, either, Lynch." Adam was still panting. "God, I'm tired."

"Let's clean you up, and then we can nap."

"Yeah." Neither of them made a movement to get up. Not for another minute, at least.

Finding it in him to get up, Ronan rose first, and went to the bathroom to get a towel. Now he felt kind of awkward, being naked, and all, but tried to just roll with it.

"Here," he threw a towel on Adam's stomach, looked for his underwear, put it on. When Adam lazily wiped himself off, Ronan plopped onto his boyfriend.

"That was, nice," Adam said, tracing squiggly lines down Ronan's back.

"Mhm," he hugged him back. "Didn't know you make such a hot dancer, Parrish."

"Oh look, now we're back to the last name basis. Do I really have to make you beg for you to call me 'Adam'?" He was teasing; Ronan loved it.

"Mmm, only one way to find out I guess," he was very close to falling asleep. He positioned himself off Adam, not to crush him, and kissed his shoulder.

They stayed silent for a while, tiredness taking over them, and soon after, the two of them fell asleep in each other's arms, smiling, and nuzzling at each other.

**Author's Note:**

> [during the couch scene, the right-left stuff, it's all like. From the perspective of the viewer / Adam, bc changing the perspective around would be too confusing, I thought, so sorry if it was confusing sdfghj]
> 
> fun fact i love commas, *slaps the fic gently* this good boy can fit so many (700, can u believe). 
> 
> where are my touch starved gays at!!! let's talk about longing.
> 
> love them kudos!


End file.
